


Fairest

by KyloTrashForever



Series: Oneshots [37]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Asshole Ben Solo, Back and Forth Time Jumps, Bathroom Sex, Boss/Employee Relationship, Dirty Talk, F/M, Kinktober 2019, Mirror Sex, Porn With Plot, Size Difference, Time Skips, Unresolved Sexual Tension, feisty rey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 20:11:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20981669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyloTrashForever/pseuds/KyloTrashForever
Summary: The black mask that had seemed so delicate when she first donned it feels heavy now—but he halts her when she attempts to tear it away. “Leave it on.”Her eyes move to his own mask that lays discarded at the sink. “But you aren’t—”“That’s because I don’t want you to have any doubts about who’s doing this to you, Rey.” His finger reaches to trace the entire column of her throat before his hand curls around it, turning his head to press his lips there from his place behind her. “When you come later, and youwill—I want you to knowexactlywho caused it.” His gaze finds hers in the mirror—holding her, keeping her prisoner. “I don’t want you to ever forget.”As if she even could.In which Rey wants someone she shouldn’t.





	Fairest

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Prompts:  
MIRROR SEX | FORMAL WEAR 
> 
> This is the closest I think I can do for asshole Ben. I did my very best guys. 😭 (Even if deep down he’s not so bad.)

_ _

* * *

_Wrong. _

It’s the singular thought coursing through her brain, as his large hands slide over the red silk clinging to her hips. The width of them seem too much for her—make her feel smaller than she is, and yet _ powerful _in a way she’s never felt before. 

Their reflection taunts her in the full-length mirror that hangs across the room—accentuating his dark suit and his dark hair and his dark eyes that seem like an inky shadow clinging to her. Inch by inch she watches him tease the tight fabric higher and higher, his pale skin stark against the crimson silk and leaving her helpless to his touch that she’s pretended not to want all these months. 

The black mask that had seemed so delicate when she first donned it feels heavy now—and she reaches with shaking fingers in an attempt to tear it away. His fingers that are so much larger than hers dart out to halt her, wrapping around her wrist with an iron grip as she gasps softly.

“What are you doing?”

Her voice is far more breathless than she intends it to be. “The mask—I was just going to—”

“Leave it on.”

Her eyes move to his own mask that lays discarded at the sink to their left, flicking back to his unobstructed gaze that drinks her in from the unforgiving mirror that bares everything to his sight. 

“But you aren’t—”

“That’s because I don’t want you to have any doubts about who’s doing this to you, Rey.” His hand curls possessively around her hip, his head turning to press his lips to her throat, all the while watching her every reaction in the ornate mirror. “The hitch in your breath”—his finger reaches to trace the entire column of her throat before his hand curls around it—“the trembling in your body”—his other hand bunches the fabric of her dress to tug it higher—“that wetness between your thighs”—that same hand finds it way under the silky hem to dip between her legs, the evidence of her arousal drenching his fingers even through the lace of her underwear—“I want you to know who it belongs to. When you come later, and _ you will—_I want you to know _ exactly _ who caused it.” His eyes meet hers in the mirror—holding her, keeping her _ prisoner. _“I don’t want you to ever forget.”

As if she even could.

* * *

“—and this is where you’ll be working,” Leia tells her. “Feel free to spruce up the waiting area. Lord knows my son never will. If it were up to him—we’d paint the room black and be done with it.” Leia shakes her head as if such an idea is a complete travesty. “Do you have any questions so far?”

“Not that I can think of,” Rey assures her.

“Well, you know you can call me if you need me, but Kaydel, the office manager, might get you a quicker answer than this old bird anyhow,” Leia laughs. “I haven’t been nearly as involved since Ben took over.”

“Is Mr. Solo in yet?”

“Oh, Lord, honey. Call him Ben. He’s not that much older than you anyway.” Rey doesn’t remind Leia that _ Ben _is nearly a decade older than her actually. Leia checks her watch. “I think he’s at a work lunch… but he should be back soon. Are you okay here by yourself for a little bit? I need to meet Han. I’ll send Kaydel your way on my way out to help familiarize you with the system.”

“Sure.” Rey nods dutifully. “Sounds great.”

Leia pats her arm. “I’m so happy you took the job. Ben could use someone level-headed like you.”

“I’ll do my best,” Rey offers with a smile. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”

Leia waves her off. “The minute old Ben told me you were job searching I knew it was kismet. Your grandfather could sing your praises till the sun comes up.”

“Yeah,” Rey laughs. “Pops has a much higher opinion of me than I deserve.”

“Nonsense,” Leia scolds. “I have absolute faith.” She glances at her phone distractedly. “Oh, shoot. I really _ have _to get going. Han will be ornery as hell if I’m late.”

“Go, go,” Rey urges. “I’ll be fine here.”

“I’ll be sure to send Kaydel up this way,” Leia assures as she turns to go. “Don’t let Ben bully you too hard. He’s all bluster.”

Rey watches her go—more than nervous about meeting her actual boss. She’s been told at one point or another she’s _ met _ Ben, but apparently she’d practically been in diapers then. She hasn’t seen or heard from him for as long as she can remember, and she wonders what he might be like. Her Pops only refers to him as _ Leia’s grumpy son—_which in hindsight doesn’t bode well.

Rey sets about settling into her desk in the stark waiting area behind the door to Ben’s private office—setting out a few framed photos of her and her friends and Pops and even one tiny framed photo of her cat BB. 

She had been in mild shock when Leia had given her a call to tell her about the open position—and feels _ extremely _ fortunate for the opportunity to be the personal assistant to an _ actual _ CEO only a year out of college. She’s still just hoping that she’ll even be able to competently _ do _the job—but surely that’s just her nerves. 

She’s jotting down a message from a phone call she answered when she hears footsteps against the tile, and she turns in her desk chair when she cradles it moments later to greet who she assumes is Kaydel.

Only it isn’t. 

She cranes her neck to look up at him—all stark lines in a fitted suit—distracted by the interesting constellation of beauty marks that dot his throat and his cheeks and everywhere else. She thinks to herself in that moment that she wishes she had googled him a little before this. That perhaps she wouldn’t be quite so unprepared for the wonder that is his _ mouth _in its fullness and its enticing color—and that maybe she wouldn’t be left staring at him like someone seeing the sun for the first time. 

His dark eyes take her in, and he’s just _ standing _ there, and she thinks he’ll say something when he opens his mouth just a little, and she’s just _ waiting _for it, and—

“Are you going to tell me who you are?”

“Oh.” _ Shit. _She feels her face heat. “I’m Rey. Your new assistant?”

His mouth purses. “The girl I’ve heard so much about.”

“You have?”

“My mother can’t seem to shut up about you.”

She can see what Pops means about _ grumpy. _He wears the expression of a carved-from-stone church gargoyle, albeit an incredibly good-looking one.

“Ah, well. Yes. She showed me around a little before you got here.”

“Good.” He tugs at his jacket sleeve as he straightens. “Then I won’t need to.”

He turns to go, and she is left a little at a loss. “Wait!” He turns on his heel, cocking an eyebrow, and she scrambles to collect her thoughts. “Don’t you want to run through what my duties are? Some sort of schedule?”

“I’m sorry,” he offers curtly, not sounding sorry at all. “I was led to believe you were _ competent. _Is that not correct? Are you here only because of nepotism after all?”

She feels her face heat for a different reason now, gaping a little. “Excuse me?”

“I told my mother you weren’t a necessary hire—and yet here you are. I was at least led to believe you would be competent, but if you need me to hold your hand through everything—”

Her outburst surprises even her, tearing out of her suddenly as his less-than-subtle berating forces her right out of her desk chair to stand.”_ Excuse me. _ I’ll have you know I have a _ bachelors _ in business administration. I don’t _ need _ nepotism to get a job. I _ certainly _ don’t need one to work for a jerk like _ you_.”

She blanches when she realizes what she’s just _ shouted _ at her new _ boss—_and she gapes at him for several seconds as she mentally prepares what she’ll tell Leia when it’s learned that Rey was fired on her _ first _day. Ben just gives her a cool look, meeting her gaze for a long enough span of time to make Rey squirm—finally giving her a little smirk. 

“Then I’m sure you can figure it out on your own then. Can’t you.”

He turns on his heel—disappearing into his office as the door shuts behind him, and Rey is left reeling and dazed. That was… the strangest first meeting she’s ever experienced. She cuts her eyes to his closed door, scowling at the polished wood. Forget _ grumpy—_Ben Solo is a fucking _ ass. _

* * *

She can see every inch of herself in the reflection across the room. The mirror leaves nothing to the imagination—and she can’t help but be fully aware that this means Ben can see everything she sees. He’s inched up the skirt of her dress high enough that her legs and her thighs and _everything _else is on full display, bunching the silk in one fist so that he can let one large hand drift to trace his fingers over the black lace of her underwear. 

“So pretty, Rey,” he hums, letting one finger press between her folds to part them through the fabric. “Did you wear these for me? Did you think about me seeing them when you put them on?”

Her eyes flutter closed as he strokes a slow up-and-down. “N-no.”

“I think you’re lying.” The pad of his finger _ just _ circles her clit through the lace—and she needs _ so _ much more. “I think you did. I think you’ve worn a good number of pretty little things under those fucking skirts you wear to torture me just _ hoping _ I would tear them off and fuck you over my desk.”

_ Torture him? _She’s a little stuck on that revelation. “Would you have? If I asked you to?”

“Rey.” There’s a low rumble in his chest as he turns his face to mouth at her throat. “There isn’t a surface on this Earth I wouldn’t fuck you over.”

She shivers all over, thinking to herself that she wishes he’d told her that a lot sooner.

* * *

She can hear him shouting through the door—but she’s learned in the last couple of months that shouting is just a common occurrence for him. She spends a few long moments staring at his office door, wondering if maybe he’ll just peter out on his own. If this will be the time she doesn’t have to go in there and check on him only to leave frustrated and angry. 

She wonders for the hundredth time why she’s still _ at _this job. 

Is it because of Leia? Some deep-seated need to not let her down after being given such a _ great _opportunity? Even if just thinking it makes her scoff now. 

Ben is… just an insufferable human being. Nothing is ever quite up to par with what he wants. Nothing is ever quite _ good _enough for him. 

It’s absolutely exhausting. 

She sighs when she can’t take it anymore, pushing away from her desk to stand and trudge towards the door. She can hear his raised voice more clearly now—obviously irate at some poor victim on the other end of his phone as bits and pieces of the conversation wafts through the wood.

“—don’t fucking care about red tape—”

“—expect you to do what I ask—”

“—are you so incompetent that you can’t even—”

Rey rubs between her eyes, taking a deep breath. She turns the handle, knowing that for whatever sad soul is on the receiving end of Ben’s tirade—she is their only hope.

She finds him standing at his desk—one hand gripping the edge as the other clutches his phone so tight it looks like he might break it. He doesn’t look at her when she steps inside his office, just grits his teeth as he spits out more vitriol. 

“_Two weeks?” _ A fraction of a second of silence. “That’s unacceptable. Do you understand? You have until Friday. _ Friday. _Do not fuck this up.”

He tosses his phone across the desk, staring down at it for several moments with a dark expression. Rey isn’t sure if she should say something or just leave, but something about his eyes screams desperation—and despite herself she feels something like worry. 

“Ben—”

He startles her when his hand swipes at a coffee cup at the corner of his desk, the dish flying across the room to collide with the wall as it shatters into several pieces. She stares open-mouthed at the pile of pieces amidst the cold remnants of coffee on his floor, her gaze finally flicking back to him to find him glaring at her. 

“Are you going to clean that up?”

She gapes at him, hot anger starting to bloom in her chest at his sneering tone—and she narrows her eyes as she struggles to keep calm.

“No,” she answers evenly, her body trembling a little with her anger. “I am not.”

He circles his desk carefully, minding the broken pieces, closing the distance between them as he strides up just beside her. He looks down at her for a handful of moments that seems thick and heavy—his jaw working subtly as his eyes brush over her face. 

“Then find someone who will.”

With that he’s gone—slamming the door behind him and leaving her alone with a little bit of broken coffee cup and a whole lot of rage. 

She wonders again why the hell she's still at this job.

* * *

She thinks she should stop this, as he slowly pulls aside her underwear. She knows they are reaching a point they can never return from—but she can hardly _ think _beyond the weight of his hands and the warmth of his back and the heaviness of his breath as it washes against her skin while he watches what he’s doing to her in the mirror. 

“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?”

She has no idea—how _ could _ she? She just manages to shake her head and tell him so as best she can. “No.”

“There were days I would lock myself in my office.” One thick finger slides through the neat patch of curls above her cunt to wholly part her folds—the width of just _ one finger _enough to slide between and cover the slick crease of her completely. “Days when that smart little mouth would bite into me—” She shifts her hips as he slowly strokes long and slow through her wet center. “I’d fuck my own fist thinking about you in the next room. Imagining what might happen if you were to walk in and see me touching myself.”

She gasps in surprise—both from this new revelation and from his finger _ just _catching at her entrance to tease the little hole there.

His teeth nip at her earlobe—his finger beginning to ease inside so _ terribly _ slow. “But this is what I wanted. This warm little cunt that squeezes just my _ finger.” _He teases the tip of his finger in-and-out, and as if to prove his point her inner walls clench around him as if trying to bring him deeper. “I wonder what it will do when I give it something else?”

Rey can hardly breathe now—and she can’t help but wonder the same thing.

* * *

“_Damnit_.”

She crawls a little further under her desk in search of the pen she dropped, ignoring the way the crown of her head throbs from where she’s just bumped it. Her hands splay out in front of her, a voice in her head grumbling that it’s _ just a pen _ while another coos _ but it’s your favorite pen. _

She can just reach it with her fingers—the tips of them brushing against where it’s rolled back by the wall, and she stretches just a little further, so close she can almost—

“Rey.”

She jumps, bumping her head again. “_Damnit_.”

Heaving a sigh, she feels irritation at this compromising position Ben has found her in. _ Perfect, _she thinks. One more thing for him to belittle her about. She scurries backwards, rising to her knees to look up at him, expecting a smug expression and finding anything but. 

His eyes are dark and wide, and there’s a heat there that she can’t quite make sense of. He stares down at where she’s kneeling, eyes a little glazed as if fixed on some unknown point—glued to the spot where her skirt had just—

Oh. _ Oh. _

She feels heat flood her face. Had he been staring at her—? Surely not. He wouldn’t—would he?

His voice is a little tight when he finally speaks. “What are you doing?”

“I was”—her voice comes out a lot airier than she means it to—“looking for my pen.”

“Were you.”

His expression is so _ tight. _It maddeningly accentuates how full his mouth is, when it’s pursed like this—something she tries very hard not to dwell on. “I was.”

His stare is hard and contemplative. “We have a lot of pens. You could get another.”

“This one is my favorite.”

There is a moment of silence as he just stares down at her, and she realizes on her knees like this she’s eye-level with his—

She swallows around the growing lump in her throat, trying to find her voice again. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, I—” He looks strange. Like he’s not quite settled. Is that because of her? “The drafts—I was—” He clears his throat. “Have they come back yet?”

Rey shakes her head slowly. “Not yet.”

She watches his throat bob with a swallow of his own, and the air seems thicker than it should be. Or maybe she’s just imagining it. She’s not quite sure what’s happening here. 

“Make sure you bring it straight to me when it comes,” he tells her, features smoothing over to leave no trace of whatever just happened. “If you think you can handle two… important tasks like this.”

She knows he’s being an ass right now, that he’s trying to demean her— but the bite to it doesn’t quite deliver. Not when he still looks to be a little out of breath. Something that’s hard to miss with the width of his chest—and she has definitely never missed that. He stomps away, slamming his office door behind him with a rattle as she rests on the floor in a bit of a daze. She has no idea what just happened, or why it’s leaving her so confused, or even what it _ meant—_but there’s one thing she’s sure of. 

She definitely didn’t imagine it.

* * *

“Look. I want you to _ look.” _

Her eyes flick down between her legs, drinking in the way the black lace stretches around his hand. The way two of his fingers curl inside her—coated with her fluids as he pumps them in-and-out. 

“See that?” He grinds his fingers deep. “See the way your cunt needs this? Needs _ me?” _ Her head falls back against his shoulder as the heel of his hand grinds into her clit. There might be a mark blooming at her throat from the way he’s sucking at her skin. “I’ve thought about”—every curl of his fingers forces her hips to roll back into the rigid length of him that strains against her backside—“how you might look like this. That mouth of yours… always _ testing _ me. I wondered how it might look begging, _ pleasing _ me—those pretty lips open and waiting for anything I wanted to give it. I can’t _ stop _thinking about it.”

“Ben, that feels—”

“And you did, too. Didn’t you. Ever since that night. I think you would have let me then. I think you would have let me do whatever I _ wanted _to this pretty little cunt. Even if you hated me. Even if you still do.”

“I don’t—” 

The words die on her lips when his thumb presses into the swollen bud of her clit, and her mouth falls open in a silent cry—and he _ does _ give her something to fill it. She feels his fingers curling past her lips to press at her tongue, and she can’t help the way she suckles at them, chest heaving and eyes glazed and he’s so _ hard _ against her and the sounds he’s making are almost _ desperate _and she—

_ I don’t hate you, Ben. _

She wonders now if she ever did.

* * *

She’s lasted an entire _ summer _ at the company—and with the changing of the leaves… so comes the change in the way she perceives Ben. 

It isn’t something she intends, hell, isn’t even something she thought was _ possible. _After four months of trivial tasks and mindless admonishments—she spends most days just trying to stay out of his way.

She hadn’t meant to come back to the office. In fact, she’s a little peeved by the matter of leaving her purse at her desk, but thanks to an understanding night guard, she’s able to shuffle back into the dark foyer where her desk is located. 

She’s surprised when she notices a light from underneath Ben’s door, and she stands just beyond it for several moments as she tells herself to just grab her purse and go. It’s none of her business why he’s here so late. She hasn’t even _ seen _him since the morning, since he left for a lunch with his father and then never came back. 

_ Just leave, Rey. _

But for reasons she doesn’t understand, or maybe reasons she doesn’t want to—she doesn’t do that at all. 

Her knock is tentative against his door, and there isn’t a single word in answer—but against all reason she opens it anyway to peek inside. It’s a bit of a mess, papers strewn over the floor and a broken lamp in the corner that still flickers with a half-hearted attempt at life, and amidst it all is Ben—slumped in his desk chair looking haggard and spent, bringing a bottle to his lips to sip at some amber liquid. 

He stills when she steps into the room—bottle hovering at his mouth with his fingers gripping it desperately, his eyes widening just a little before he averts them completely. 

“What do you want?”

She purses her lips. “You’re here late.”

“So are you.”

She doesn’t miss the way his voice slurs a little. “I forgot my purse.”

“Seems you found it.”

She glances down at it in her hand. “I did.”

“Suppose you can leave then.”

He looks so _ tired. _It’s a far cry from the rigidness he normally projects, and for whatever reason, it tugs at something inside. “Why are you drinking alone?”

“Who else would I ask?”

“Why are you drinking at _ all?” _

“Why do you care?”

“I didn’t say I did.”

He holds her gaze as he takes another slow sip. “They love you, you know.”

Her brow furrows. “I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. They never shut up about you. The way my mother talks about you… so _ proud. _It’s like they finally have a kid they can be proud of.”

“Your mother _ loves—” _

“Don’t tell me about my family. I know them better than you.” He takes another long swig, hissing a little from what she suspects is the afterburn. “My father has met you what, four times?” Ben snorts. “Enough to gain a higher opinion of you than he ever had of me.” His eyes travel down the length of her. “What makes _ you _so special?”

She doesn’t know what to say about any of this. She has come to love Leia, she can’t deny that, it’s the primary reason for her even still _ being _ here—but she never stopped to wonder about how _ Ben _ got along with his family. She knew things were strained at the very least—whisperings of old wounds and barely forgotten tension—but she never thought to wonder, never even _ considered _how Ben might—

_ It doesn’t matter. It’s none of your business. _

“Maybe if you weren’t so insufferable all the time,” she offers coolly.

He laughs a little. “Insufferable.”

She's a little taken aback, thinking to herself that it might be the first time she’s ever seen him smile—even if it’s tight and a little bit sardonic. “Do you have to be so…”

“Yes,” he answers quietly. “I don’t know any other way to be.”

“There’s no excuse for being an intolerable prick.”

His eyes narrow. “What did you say?”

“You heard me.”

He stares after her for a long time, taking another sip before he sets the bottle on the surface of his desk. He pushes away from it slowly—rising to his feet only a _ little _shakily as he lumbers across the space. She thinks to herself that she should retreat, that she should duck out of this office and pretend she never walked in here—but she’s rooted to the spot as he closes the distance between them. 

One thick arm comes up by her head, his hand flattening against the wall as he peers down at her. “You’re very mouthy,” he mutters. “For someone on my payroll.”

She swallows thickly, meeting his gaze with bravery she doesn’t quite feel. “Technically… it’s your mother’s payroll.”

He laughs under his breath, and she can smell the alcohol that lingers there, warm and heavy as it washes over her. “No one will ever let me forget it.”

“You don’t have to be… the way you are.”

“You think you know so much about me,” he hums, reaching to brush a finger over one loose curl that rests against her collarbone. Her breath catches at the innocent touch—Ben touching her more in that simple gesture than he ever has before. 

“I—” Her voice sounds wrong, too breathy, too choked—_wrong. _“I know everything I need to know about you.”

“You do?” He twirls that same lock around his finger, mouth parted slightly and eyes hooded as if he barely even knows what he’s doing. They flick up to meet hers, darker than usual. “Ah. You do. You’ve got that look in your eye. The one everyone else wears when they look at me.” He takes a deep breath. “You don’t know a single thing about me, Rey.” He rubs the captured curl between his index finger and thumb, just staring at it. Rey has forgotten how to _ breathe. _“You’re so soft.”

_ What? _

He’s staring at her mouth now, and she can’t make sense of it, can’t make sense of _ any _ of this—but she finds herself rooted to the spot. Her eyelids feel heavy, and her body arches just a _ little _as if seeking more of this impossible scenario she never even imagined happening. 

_ But that’s not entirely true, is it? _

There’s no reason for it, not a single one that makes sense—but there _ have _been nights she’s thought about his mouth engaged in something other than snide remarks and disgruntled sneers. There have been nights when she’s thought about his hands not breaking things, but touching in a way that is decidedly more… gentle. 

Something a lot like he’s doing right now. 

Her eyes are practically closed now, and his knuckle rests just against her collarbone, and he’s so _ close— _ close in a way he’s never been—and it makes no sense, and she shouldn’t allow it to _ happen, _and—

“You should go home.”

Her eyes fly open as he straightens—his mask back in place and the heated look from before nowhere to be found. Rey is stunned for a handful of seconds, embarrassment bleeding into irritation and then into _ anger— _and she jerks away from him with a lot more force than necessary. 

She doesn’t say a word, as she turns away to escape through his door, and she never looks back.

No matter how badly she might want to.

* * *

She’s too-aware of how little she’s wearing now—the red silk of her dress in a pool on the tile leaving her in nothing but her black bra and her black lace underwear that are so stretched they’re practically useless at this point. 

But she’s finding it hard to focus on any of that. 

It’s hard to remain upright when his tongue first passes through the slippery crease of her—her legs trembling a little as he licks her from her entrance all the way up to her clit. If she looks down she can see his head shift side to side, nose nuzzling at the neat curls between her legs as his tongue teases the swollen bud just beneath. Behind him, the reflection in the mirror presents something different—his large body on its knees, her fingers threaded through his raven hair, her skin flushed with need, and his hands gripping at the curves of her hips as he tries to pull her closer to his mouth. 

“You are”—his tongue makes a wide lap through her folds, and she whimpers in her throat—“_edible, _ Rey.” He sucks at her clit lazily with a sloppy sound, flicking his tongue there after. “I could _ drown _in this.”

“Ben—” Her knees feel weak now, her body curling a little because it _ feels _ so good and it’s _ so _hard to keep her footing. “I—”

His hands go tight at her hips, his teeth biting gently at one of the lips of her cunt in warning. “Be still for me,” he warns, his words murmured against her labia as his dark eyes look up at her. “Do as your told.” He takes a long draw from her clit, sucking it into his mouth deeply to make her cry out before he releases it with a slurp. He holds her gaze as he moves back in, a smirk at his mouth and a fire in his eyes that threatens to burn her from the inside out. “For once.”

* * *

“I’ll expect to see you there, Ben.” Leia strides out Ben’s office with a slight huff—shaking her head. “Don’t be a spoiled sport.”

“Extravagant parties are _ your _ thing, mother,” he grumbles as he follows out after her.

“Either way,” she tuts. “You’re going.” Leia notices Rey sitting at her desk. “Have you gotten your dress sorted yet?”

Rey’s lips turn down. “Dress for what?”

“Dress for wha... _ Ben _.” Leia cuts her eyes to her son who seems to be distracted by something on his jacket sleeve. Leia shakes her head. “Why didn’t you tell Rey about the masquerade?”

Ben shrugs noncommittally. “I wasn’t aware the invitations extended to general staff.”

“You know damned well they do,” Leia clicks her tongue, turning back to Rey. “Forgive my son,” she offers. “He likes to make things more difficult than they have to be.”

Ben’s expression is tight, but he says nothing. Rey tries her best to deflect. “A masquerade?”

“Oh, yes, honey,” Leia gushes. “Every year we throw a spectacular masquerade in the fall for charity. Dresses, dancing, dining—the works. You _ must _come.”

Rey’s eyes flick to Ben who is pointedly not looking at her. “I don’t know if I have anything to wear for it.”

“You have till Friday,” Leia assures her. “Plenty of time for a nice shopping trip. Anything you wear will be lovely, anyway. Don’t you think Ben?”

Ben finally allows his eyes to collide with Rey, passing over her face and lower in a way that someone else might mistake for disinterest. Rey, however, isn’t so convinced. “Sure,” he says finally. “If she really wants to waste her Friday with your insufferable friends.”

Leia sighs exasperatedly. “Must everything be a fight with you?”

“That’s what they tell me,” Ben murmurs. 

“Rey, dear,” Leia starts, paying no more mind to her brooding son. “Please come. We’d love for you to be there.”

Rey’s eyes dart back and forth between Leia and Ben, but she finds herself unable to say no to this woman—something she’s learned in these months is a common effect she has on people. “Sure. I’ll be there.”

“Excellent,” Leia beams. “If you need any help picking out a dress, feel free to call. I’m due for some good retail therapy.”

Leia misses the subtle roll of Ben’s eyes—but Rey doesn’t. Leia bids them both farewell then, forcing Ben to stoop so that she might kiss his cheek and wiggling her fingers in a wave to Rey before she clacks off towards the elevators. Ben is quiet as she goes, but doesn’t move to leave immediately. 

It’s only when she’s sure Leia is long gone that Rey allows herself to speak. “Any particular reason you didn’t want me at the masquerade?”

“I never said I didn’t.”

“It’s implied, I think, when you failed to give me my invitation.”

“It slipped my mind.”

“_Nothing _slips your mind, Ben.”

Ben’s jaw works subtly, his eyes averting to anywhere but her face. “It’s a gaudy affair with too many people that like to hear too much of their own voice. I didn’t think you would enjoy it.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t presume to know what I would and would not enjoy.”

There is a puff of air from his nostrils that is not _ quite _a laugh—but it shocks Rey a little all the same. “I suppose you’re right.”

Rey feels a fluttering in her chest—like heavy beats of wings as the words in her head sit heavy on her tongue. “We could ride together. If you like.”

“And why would we do that?”

“I don’t know,” she says carefully. ”Why _ would _we do that.”

Silence hangs between them, Ben studying her intently as the night in his office looms overhead. They haven’t spoken about it since then—letting two weeks pass as if it never happened at all, and Rey doesn’t think she can actually take more of the odd tension between them. 

“I think maybe you might have the wrong idea about a few things,” he says quietly. 

“Do I?” 

“I know what you’re doing,” he answers, “and you’re wrong.”

“Am I?”

His eyes narrow. “What happened in my office—”

“What _ did _happen, Ben?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

She swivels her chair, tapping her nails along her desk. “Really? Because that’s not what I think happened.”

“It isn’t.”

“No,” she says coolly. “I think… you wanted to kiss me, and now you’re being chickenshit about it.”

“_Excuse _me?”

“I didn’t stutter.” 

“I can assure you,” he grinds out, “you’re mistaken.”

“I can assure _ you—_I’m not.”

He takes a deep breath, eyes boring a hole into hers as his expression darkens. “Let me be very clear, Rey. Anyone, and I mean _ anyone— _ could have walked through that door that night and stumbled upon the same results. Don’t let one moment of happenstance go to your head. There is… _ nothing _between us. There never will be.”

She feels his words against her face as if he’d reached out and slapped her, and she presses her fingers to her cheek as if checking the phantom sting there. His eyes are hard, his body _ rigid—_and she thinks perhaps she’d misjudged the entire thing. 

“I won’t go to the event,” she says softly after a time, averting her eyes to her lap. 

“Go,” he urges. “I won’t be. Better they have someone there they actually want around.”

He disappears into his office then, letting the door shut quietly behind him as she wrings her hands in her lap. She’s spent nearly every day since the incident in his office building up the moment into something it apparently never was—and she has to admit that to have it all go up in smoke feels… awful. 

It makes no sense that she wants to understand him. That she wants to peel back his layers and get to the _ root _ of him—but with every day she spends outside his door she finds she can’t deny that she _ does_. It’s frustrating, and impossible, and _ ridiculous, _ but it doesn’t change the facts. With the way Ben so obviously feels, the way he can’t seem to enjoy _ anything, _ let alone _ her— _maybe she should take that as a sign. Stop torturing herself and move on to a job that doesn’t leave her an addled mess most of the time. 

Maybe that’s what she’ll do.

* * *

“_Fuck.” _

She comes on his tongue _ hard—_legs shaking and fingers knotted in his hair and she remains standing by the strength of his arms _ alone. _He laps at her center through it all, collecting every drop of her orgasm on his tongue and sucking at her clit as her vision whitens out. 

He rises from his knees slowly—arms encircling her waist, one hand sliding up her spine to cup at her nape. His teeth scrape at her jaw, and she can feel her own fluids at his mouth, causing her to shiver. His tongue finds hers when he turns his head, and she can _ taste _ it—the flavor of her clinging to his tongue and her body feels so _ heavy _ but he feels so _ good _holding her up. 

“Tell me that I can fuck you,” he rasps. “Tell me I can do all the things I’ve wanted to do to you.”

“I’m sorry,” she hums. “Was there something you wanted to do to me?”

“That smart mouth. Even now.”

She tugs at the lapel of his jacket, still slightly fizzier from the aftermath of an orgasm.“You’re so… dressed.”

“And that bothers you?”

“Considering how I am so… undressed… Yes.”

She feels his lips curl against hers, and it’s transcendent, it’s _ earth-shattering—_it just about _ ruins _her.

“They told me you were competent,” he murmurs. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

* * *

“You look _ stunning.” _

Rey feels herself blush under Leia’s attention. “Thanks.”

Leia urges her to spin, and Rey hesitates only a moment because again, it’s very hard to say _ no _to Leia.

“You’re embarrassing the girl,” Han gruffs from beneath his chocolate-colored silk mask. He raises a glass in her direction. “You look good, kid.”

Rey grins back at them as she lets her eyes sweep casually across the room. “There’s quite a crowd here tonight.”

“Such an _ amazing _turnout,” Leia gushes, her graying hair seems starker above the white satin over her eyes—matching her white dress that gives an overall stunning effect. “It’s too bad Ben decided not to come.”

Han snorts beside her. “Can’t be bothered to do anything that might benefit anyone else.”

“Not tonight, Han,” Leia sighs.

Rey is surprised by how prickled it makes her, hearing anything unkind said about him when he isn’t around to defend himself. She brings her champagne flute to her lips, trying to quell her irritation. “Ben’s been remarkable to work for.”

It’s a stretch, sure, but she still feels the need to say it. 

Even if she came here tonight planning to discuss leaving this place behind. 

“You don’t have to fib for our sake,” Han chuckles. “We know who he is. Stubborn as they come, arrogant, always thinks he knows best—”

“Sounds a lot like his father,” Leia murmurs, taking a sip from her own flute.

“Now, don’t put that on me,” Han grumbles. “I didn’t do anything other than give him everything he ever wanted. Don’t know where we went wrong.”

Rey’s heart feels a little heavy in her chest. It makes no sense that she would feel this overwhelming need to defend him—but the words are bubbling up before she can stop them. 

“I think he’s brilliant,” she says quietly, and then a little louder: “He’s driven, and passionate, and he’s _ always _ thinking of the company—even if he’s a little… _ pricklier _than he should be, I don’t think that means he—”

Leia’s eyes flick over Rey’s shoulder, widening a little. “Ben! You made it, after all.”

Rey falls silent, feeling heat flood her neck. She can’t bring herself to look—_ feeling _ him behind her now—all the words she’s just vomited up hanging in the air and _ he wasn’t even supposed to be here. _

She turns slow, tilting up her face to find his as be peers down at her with an unreadable expression. Music from the band shifts to something slower, and time seems to slow down a little with it.

Because Ben doesn’t look at his mother, or his father, doesn’t even acknowledge their _ presence _really—too busy staring down at her. Just her. 

His eyes are dark behind a black mask that compliments her own—dressed in a dark, tailored suit that only accentuates just how very _ large _he is. He could fill an entire room, she thinks. 

He extends a hand slowly, innocently—nodding back towards the dance floor, and she’s helpless to do anything but place her hand in his much larger one. He says nothing as he tugs softly at her hand, as he pulls her away from his parents who are surely gaping at this odd exchange—and she can’t seem to be bothered. She does the only thing she’s capable of in that moment.

She follows his lead.

* * *

“Get up on the chaise. On your knees.”

She eyes the soft-looking seating that rests just in front of the mirror, biting her lip. It’s hard to tear her gaze away from his open dress shirt—the wide expanse of hard muscle underneath everything she’s been imagining and begging for her to run her fingers over it. 

His pants are in a pile with her dress—and his jacket lays draped over the vanity with his tie. He urges her with his hands to step up, silently telling her again to step up on the chaise as he rests behind her. She does so slowly, propping up on her knees only inches from the mirror, her hands braced against the smooth glass, so close that her breath fogs up a small patch. 

Ben leans into her, the warmth of his chest pressed against her back as his hand curls under the already ruined lace of her underwear to tug roughly. “You won’t be needing these,” he murmurs as he gives another firm pull, the fabric coming apart in his hands as if made of paper. 

“_Hey—” _

Her protests die on her lips when his hand is immediately there—cupping her core to slide his fingers back-and-forth through the wet crease, her eyes fluttering closed as she leans in to arch her back and rest her cheek against the cool mirror. She hears a rustling of fabric before something hot and _ hard _rests against her ass—his hips thrusting lighting to drag his cock over her skin as he lets two fingers slip inside her.

“I should take you home.” He grinds deep inside, drawing a needy sound out of her. “You should be fucked in a bed.” His fingers slip out of her, his hand bracing at her hip to let her own fluids slide over her skin.”That’s what a _ good _ man would do.” She draws in shuddering breath when she feels the head of his cock sliding between her folds—and if she presses back to look, she can _ see _the slick tip of it in the mirror, enveloped by the lips of her cunt as it pushes through to the other side. His mouth finds her ear, his voice a hoarse whisper. “But we both know I’m not very good. Am I.”

He draws his hips outward, and she can feel him catching at her entrance and _ holding— _one large hand finding her chin to force it up so that her gaze meets his in the mirror behind the mask that still covers her eyes. 

“Want you to know _ exactly _who’s fucking you,” he reminds her. 

Then he starts to push inside.

* * *

She quickly learns Ben won’t be the one to break the silence. 

She’s distracted by the warm press of his hand at her back, the size of his other as it swallows up her own—his large body pressed against her as he turns her in time with the music. 

But she still has to know.

“I thought you weren’t coming.”

It’s harder to read his expression, behind the mask. “I wasn’t.”

“But you’re here.”

“I am.”

“Care to tell me what made you change your mind?”

“It might have something to do with an email I found in my inbox this afternoon.”

She sucks in a breath. “I didn’t think you’d see it until Monday.”

“I forward all my work emails to my cell phone.”

“Oh.”

“Yes,” he says quietly. “Oh.”

Rey looks away from his face, peering out into the crowd instead. “I don’t see why that would make you want to come here.”

“You really think you can just drop a resignation letter like that? Do you think it’s that easy?”

“I don’t see why it wouldn’t be.”

“It’s not that easy to get away from me.”

She looks up at him, wishing she could read his face, the lowness of his tone so warm it seems to _ actually _ touch her skin. “And why would you care? There’s _ nothing _between us,” she echoes. “There never will be.”

She watches his throat bob with a swallow, and it seems like his fingers go just a little tighter at her waist. “Maybe I just don’t want to have to find anyone else to replace you.”

“Right.” She laughs bitterly. “Of course.”

He pulls her a little tighter. “Or maybe I’m a liar.”

Her mouth parts, feeling a little like she can’t breathe. “Well, which is it?”

“I should let you go,” he tells her quietly. “That’s what I should do.”

“Is that what you came here to tell me?”

“It should be.”

“But?”

He goes quiet, both of them swaying a little slower, and even behind the mask she can feel the heat of his gaze. She waits for him to answer—waits for him to tell her what she wants to hear, or not, just saying _ something. _

But still he is quiet.

“Tell me the truth,” she urges softly, taking matters into her own hands. “Did you want to kiss me that night in your office?”

She watches his chest rise and fall heavily, and she realizes they’ve both gone still even as the music plays on. “Why is it so important that you know?”

“Because it is, Ben,” she whispers. 

His eyes brush over the lines of her face. “And what if I did, Rey?”

“Well,” she answers carefully. “I would want to know why you didn’t.”

His hand curls around her waist to press into her spine, bringing her so close that no space exists between them. “Because if I kiss you, Rey”—the thumb of his other hand presses into her palm to stroke—“I’m going to swallow you whole.” 

Her breath catches, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. “And who says I don’t want you to?”

“Rey,” he manages tightly. “I’ve done a lot of bad things… but that might be the worst thing I could ever do.”

“Maybe you should stop trying to make decisions for me. I’m a big girl, Ben. You don’t scare me.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he huffs. “There’s nothing good about me, Rey. Ask anyone. I would do nothing but drag you down. You’re so good, and light, and beautiful, and I—”

She takes him by surprise, she thinks, when she presses up on her toes. When her mouth collides with his on a crowded dance floor under the muted light that glows softly above. She forgets the music and the lights and the people and _ all _of it—pressing her lips against his as he stands deathly still. 

But then he melts into it, his grip _ hard _ on her skin as he pulls her closer, so close she thinks he’s trying to _ merge _ with her. His tongue presses at the seam of her mouth, and she whimpers a little as she opens to let it sweep inside. It’s warm and heavy and _ everything _ she thought it would be, it’s _ more, _it’s—

He breaks away suddenly, chest heaving as he struggles to compose himself. “Not here. We can’t do this here. We can’t—”

Rey curls her hand around his, her mind more than made up as she pulls at it to urge him to follow her through the crowd. “Come with me.”

* * *

“Ben. _ Ben.” _

The mirror vibrates with each thrust—her body jolting against it as his cock drives into her roughly. 

“God, you are”—his body curls over hers, his teeth nipping at her shoulder—“_perfect. _So hot inside. Feels like you’re melting my cock.”

“_Ben,” _she manages again. “That feels—”

“I wanted to fuck you like this that first day,” he growls, “and every day after. Every _ single _day.”

There are bits of _ her _ on the mirror—her sweat, her breath, her handprints—pieces of her that she knows will be there after they’re done here, and it warms her further to know there will be evidence of this. Irrefutable proof that this is _ real. _

His fingers struggle with the silky tie at her hair, ripping the mask away to let it fall to the floor. “Want your eyes when you come. Want to _ see _it.”

She tilts her head back—catching his gaze even as her eyes feel as heavy as the rest of her. 

Her thighs tremble a little as his cock fills her again and again, and his hands wrap around them to hold her up, slamming into her with everything he has now. The room is filled with the slap of skin and harsh breathing and their collective groans—and she knows if anyone outside presses their ear to the door they would know exactly what was happening, but she can’t find it in her to _ care _about anything beyond the warm stretch of his cock buried deep inside. 

There is _ nothing _beyond this. 

“_Fuck, _Rey. You’re getting tighter. Are you close? Tell me what you need.”

“Touch me,” she breathes. “_Please.” _

She immediately feels his hand wind around, his fingers pressing into her clit to rub there as she gasps from the pleasure of it. She rests her forehead against the mirror, looking down into the reflection to watch the thick digits work frantically at her cunt. She can just see glimpses of the base of him disappearing inside her, can see the way his balls slap against her skin lewdly with each thrust. 

She can’t seem to look away. 

“_Rey, _ you’re— _ fuck, _I’m going to—”

She moans as he somehow picks up the pace of his hand, catching her clit _ just right _ as hot pressure blooms just behind. She feels it wind tight, so tight it’s almost _ unbearable—_leaving her right there. _ Right there _ at the edge. So _ close. _Just a little more and she’ll—

_ “Ben.” _

His name is a gasp and whine all at once, and she can barely hear it in her ears with the way her blood rushes there. Her cunt spasms around him, pulling a groan from deep in his throat as his slippery fingers fall to grip her thigh, as his thrusts become erratic and _ messy. _ She feels his hot breath on her skin, feels his grip so tight it might _ bruise, _ and then there is a warm gush inside as his body _ shudders, _curling over hers to press her deeper against the mirror as they struggle to catch their breath. 

She feels his lips begin to trail lazily over her skin, his hips still giving shallow and languid thrusts as if to enjoy the slick warmth of her a little longer. When he finally slips out, when he finally attempts to stand—Rey doesn’t miss the slow trickle of him and her and _ them _trailing down her thigh in the mirror.

Rey watches it fall for a lot longer than she should.

* * *

Even as they try to dress, Rey discovers a new side of Ben that she thinks he’s been trying to suppress for a very long time. The process that should only take minutes takes much longer—Ben pausing every so often to brush his hands over her curves, to let his lips find her skin, to touch and tease in a way she never thought possible. 

She thinks to herself she could get use to it. 

“I want you to head straight to the valet,” he tells her, buttoning his shirt. 

“I haven’t said goodbye to Han and Leia. Why would I leave?”

“We’re going back to my apartment.”

“She cocks an eyebrow. “Oh, are we?”

“Yes,” he answers matter-of-factly, “and I’ll be speaking to HR Monday about disclosing—or perhaps we’ll just move you around to another department. Although, that’s not ideal.”

“Excuse me?” Her hands still at the strap of her dress. “You’re making a lot of decisions for me here.”

He cocks an eyebrow as if he doesn’t understand. “Yes?”

“You can’t just decide these things without talking to me.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“Well, not exactly, but—”

“Did you think this was a one-time thing?”

She rolls her eyes. “I didn’t mean—”

“I fail to see what the problem is.”

“Fuck.” She blows out a puff of air between her lips. “You’re going to drive me crazy. Aren’t you.”

“That is highly likely.” She shakes her head as he shrugs back into his jacket, taking a step to close the distance between them just before leaning to pluck her discarded mask from the floor. “But”—he smiles a little as he steps behind her, something she isn’t sure she’ll ever get used to—“I can promise you”—he catches her eye in the reflection of the mirror, bringing her arms around her as he lifts the mask to her face to begin to tie it back into place—“I’ll make it worth your time.”

“We’ll see,” she answers just a little breathily. 

He finishes tying the mask, testing it before smoothing his hands over her arms. “Now, meet me at the valet.”

“What will you tell your mother?”

His lips curl into a grin that is _ wicked, _ and she isn’t sure if she’s terrified or aroused. “I plan to tell her _ exactly _who I’m taking home. The look on her face might just make my entire year.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Yes,” he laughs softly. He presses a kiss at her cheek, the gleam in his eyes easily read in the mirror. “Yes, I am. Valet.” His knuckle brushes down her spine. “Go.”

For once, she doesn’t argue with him. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
Come say hi on [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/kylotrashforever)!  
I made a [Twitter](https://mobile.twitter.com/KTF_Reylo), come follow me!


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